Telling the truth about myself

“If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little.”
– Anne Lamott, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential Prayers

It’s been a while since I wrote, but here I am, trying to practice God’s presence by admitting the truth: I’m okay, even when I’m not. And though parts of days lately have felt like sludge through gray porridge where I can’t gain a grip, still, all is well.

I suppose I tell you this, even though you walk around in a flesh and bone package and surely know of this heart beating ache of life, because if this is where you find yourself today — sludgy, a little grip-less, weary, okay and/or not okay — I want you to know you are not alone.

Two years ago, I was so afraid to start blogging because people might critique or judge me for putting my messy self out there, and so I might be tempted to tidy things up for consumption. And then you’d get the idea that my life is filled with happy children lined up in a straight row and a sparkling kitchen and a mouth that only speaks love and a marriage where we continually shine happy sunbeams on each other, and wouldn’t that be awful to be in my lies all by my lonesome.

Those of you who know me in real life or who’ve read here for any length of time know that picture’s not the truth — nor is it for anyone whose life we catch in snapshot — and so I’m committed to writing the truth about myself and living fully awake. Because this life is not only beauty, joy and gratitude, but also aimlessness, tedium and a Pandora mix station where every song makes me want to weep my eyes out.

So I suppose what I’m doing right now is called writing through the pain, as my dear friend encouraged me to do. I’m feeling much better this morning than I have been — perhaps something started to lift yesterday as I began to write this post — but I wanted you to know that it’s not just a full life that has kept me away, but tinges of depression and anxiety that make it hard to see or write through fog, along with the worries of what you’d think of me.

I’m amazed to see that as the days wear on, and I accept myself where I am and not judge these hard places, I am not only able to recognize myself as one in need and one fully loved, but am also able to receive the beauty that grows right through.

For in the same place where sorrow clings, marigolds dance their garish gold and children laugh on repeat.

I seem to be learning once again that the experiences of life need not be categorized and boxed according to type — sad day here, delightful one there — because isn’t it true that we are both completely undone and held? Fully ruined and wholly loved?

Here I am this morning and there you are. And I’m thinking of you as I remember again what we can choose and what just is. Today, I can choose again to notice the details of life half working like the dishwasher, piled high like undone laundry, and say all is well.

I can spy the smile like her papa’s and the whirl of cream through the cooling cup, and say thank you. I can answer, “I’m good” and mean it, then cry into Michael’s shoulder and say “I’m so weary” and “This is hard.”

Perhaps Lamott’s right, and accepting the truth, actually allowing the painful paradox to be is more invitation than resignation. And it’s a desiring of the One who is with me and you, the One who loves and is not going anywhere.

Oh, dear heart. Right in the middle of reading this, I started weeping with recognition – so much resonance & truth here. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your real, honest truth telling. And how much it (you) inspires me.

“Those of you who know me in real life or who’ve read here for any length of time know that picture’s not the truth — nor is it for anyone who’s life we catch in snapshot — and so I’m committed to writing the truth about myself and living fully awake.”

It’s so easy to catch those snapshots and to assume that “they” have it all, that somehow they’ve dodged the hard & tired of it, when, really – they’re just telling part of the story. And the thing is, as I so clearly see in your truth telling, there is so, so much preciousness in the hard & tired…it’s those tender cracks that let the light in if we allow. When we take the judgement out, Beauty has a chance to seep in.

“I seem to be learning once again that the experiences of life need not be categorized and boxed according to type — sad day here, delightful one here — because isn’t it true that we are both completely undone and held? Fully ruined and wholly loved?”

Yes, it is true. I see that it’s in the painful center of our brokenness that we finally surrender all of our trying/grasping/reaching & this opens the door for true grace to enter…

Dear Julia, it means so much that you understand all those contradictions I describe. Oh, those snapshots are a really doozy, aren’t they? I keep needing to remind myself — and I tell Sici all the time — days can be really lonely when we think we’re the only ones. We’re never the only ones…so many of us are thinking we are alone at the same time rather than telling the messy truth of our humanness. I love how you describe the gift of brokenness here, friend. In the surrender of trying/grasping/reaching — grace pours in. I love and miss you, Julia.

Dear Ashley
Yesterday I was so worried about you and had a burden on my heart for you; so I prayed! Now I see why. My dear friend, I understand how difficult it is and just be your authentic self, but always remember that our Pappa dresses only the naked. I am experiencing excruciating pain and fatigue at the moment due to a flare, but I know that nothing can ever seperate me from the lve of Jesus and His grace is always sufficient.
Blessings XX
Mia

So grateful for your prayers, dear Mia. It was a few solid weeks of darkness, but good darkness. The kind where I can feel pain and sorrow and be with God in it and not hate or judge myself for it. I do learn so much from you and the way you navigate the so often painful everyday. You are a gift in my life, and I am praying for you right now.

Oh, girl, this line, this wisdom- makes me ache and hope and cheer all at once: “I seem to be learning once again that the experiences of life need not be categorized and boxed according to type — sad day here, delightful one there — because isn’t it true that we are both completely undone and held? Fully ruined and wholly loved?” And from a woman wading through the bittersweet of life right now, this is sheer grace. Thanks for pressing through and writing in the HARD. So glad you’re REAL, ’cause I love the REAL YOU.

Thank you so much for this post! I feel right at home with you!
I just wrote a post very similar to what you are expressing and feeling.
Trying to write to understand more of what it means to speak the truth in love and grow up into Christ and why is it so hard to be vulnerable in my closest relationships.
I was very blessed to read your heartfelt and honest words and know I am not alone in how I feel today too.
Bless you and thank you.
Susan

Praying for you today, Susan, that you would know the good gift of your broken places, those spots that let the light through. I am praying that God would show you where and how to share the gift of your real self and that you would find soul sisters to truly walk that out with you. Bless you today, and thank you so much for your words.

I don’t know old you are Ashley, but I always say that we find out who when we reach our thirties. (a few more months of forties for me). I don’t know if you reached those days yet, but it seems to be when the cloud drops and we have to start finding where we have moored our identity. It is unsettling for sure, but you are wise to face it openly and with courage. I did not and my journey was long. I am praying for you today and asking God to help you have some understanding in the depths that what seems so difficult, really is a gift. It already is in words spilled out from a open heart, real, vulnerable, and without apology for not having all your ducks in a row. Already you see the beauty that is rising.

And since we are being real, as hard as I have tried I haven’t been able to get to real on my blog. I do “get real” often (and without effort really) in comment boxes like this one.I don’t understand it but when I get to the blog, I suddenly get schizophrenia :)

I am glad that you have laid out, the messy beautiful you. I am so excited to see what God has in store for you. Somehow to Christ— the messier we are, the more beautiful he finds us. If only we could see through his eyes.

Dea, I am 39, so I do believe your theory holds true with me. Yes, I’ve been on that journey you describe for some time, but it does seem to be that circling back to the same lessons in new and deeper ways each time. I pray that God opens up for you the avenues to share the real you on your blog. Not that you aren’t being honest already, but that you would be unafraid to share that deeper layer so others could come to understand the fullness of how much God loves them in their messy places, too. Appreciate you, sister.

Beautiful Ashley. Thank you. My 2 greatest Prayers are Help Me and Thank You so I will now add, WOW, for 3 greatest.

Just know that when we are “Sensitives” as I know you are, and “Empaths” of deep feeling we have asked for a lot to attend to at a deeper level than many to come up with something that helps others when we have finally been helped to “Slog” through. I feel the worst when my Ship is Sunk and I feel no wind in the Sail and there seems to be no headway and the depression feels like a funk that won’t end. And then, if I keep “eeking” out the small smiles for the Bird (at just that moment) or the way the Moon is (like tonight) at just that moment (or the Shoulder that is Mike, at just the right moment)…. those little small things, and keep swimming no matter what, eventually there is a shift and I get lifted by more than I imagined might come through. And then there’s the “Whew”, I made it through “That One”, nearly by the seat of my pants and the skin of my teeth, but nonetheless, I made it. And I know the big “Who” that got me through. I always ask, Lord for this Hard one, can you possibly get me to the place where I might use this and be Grateful for it and help others? (I never believe it can happen at the time I force this Prayer out of my mouth). Please? He always comes through, every time.

Keep going to the Edge of the Light you “can” see. I know you already do. Just letting you know I struggle in this way too!

Wishing you so much love and your courage to share always humbles me greatly. God IS using you so very well, through the Human Vessel of the Soul that is You and your rich, raw and meaningful disclosure. His Fountain Bubbles through you, even when you doubt.

Dear Kelly, I treasure your words and feel like this is exactly what I’m learning. That the everyday small — all those kinds of things you so beautifully describe — opens up the way to freedom and life and love and that is then a gift to pass along to others! Exactly that. Yes, God does use those places of pain and struggle for beauty every.single.time. I completely agree. Thank you for cheering me on. You bless me, Kelly.

I also believe, He might hold us special as we break, that we break for more than we know. When I am broken, I ask that the painful release help others to do the same. I don’t know if it happens but it helps me feel my brokenness. These are huge Spiritual Times we’re all in and it takes a lot of Strength to keep our Hearts open and loving. We are all fighting for this and He knows. I call us “The Battalion” for Love on this Planet on this Human Walk we’re on! You are a Love Fighter and We’re all doing it one way or another, but we’re doing it together, and that is a fact. We help each other, it’s what He intended and no one is immune. It is for the Love of God. Big Hugs, Kelly

Oh friend, I’m here in my hotel room at idea camp and it’s 2 in the morning and I’m weeping tears and prayers over you because I know exactly what you’re talking about. This is beautiful and brave and so true and I see God in you through your words and your life, not because I think you’ve got it all together but because He has you in the palm of His hand and you belong to Him. Clear as day, I see His stamp on you. So friend, I am with you. Praying for you and loving you all the way from Austin tonight. This past month or two have felt like a wrecking ball smashing to hell everything I built up so tidily and I’m not one to shy away from my messes but even I have seen so much that God is peeling back and revealing. And it’s all good. Hurting and painful and hard but good. Love you and sending all my love your way.

Alia, your words and tears are love and life. Thank you for your encouragement and sisterhood and for this: “Clear as day, I see His stamp on you.” Wow, friend…I needed that. I am amazed by all you’re walking through in integrity and truth, blazing a trail with Him saying, “This is the way, walk in it.” I love you.

Lovely, Ashley, in all the raw honesty of admitting that everything isn’t perfect, and some days it’s simply the worst. God treasures our *real* lives, with all of their broken bits and with all of our struggles, He sees beauty still in us, and this is what sustains me.
There is little sweeter that being able to stand before the Lord and practice His presence with authenticity. You bless us with your willingness, and inspire me to do the same.

I am continually amazed that God sees beauty in our mess. He knows it all anyway, of course. It’s the authenticity, I suppose, the desire to tell the truth and allow God to work through the imperfection that draws us closer to him in true intimacy. Your words bless me, Kris. Thank you.

I love the real you, Ashley. I love that you don’t give snapshots of a life that is not really yours, and when you are here, writing through your pain, I am so honored again to know you. To be getting to know the real you. I know exactly what you speak of here, and I know, too, that fog of depression and anxiety that can keep us away from words. I’m glad you were able to get these out – for yourself, and for us, too. Praying for you, dear heart. Wrapping you in my love.

I’ve heard it spoken quite often lately, choruses of voices from many corners encouraging us women all to be honestly where we are, in messes, holy and unholy, in our insecurities, jealousies, our dirt and our doubt. We’re encouraged to stand beside one another through it all saying, yes, I know, me too – if not today, then it was yesterday, or it will be tomorrow. Your voice in this chorus rings so brightly. Whatever mess you are sharing here always manages to carry with it hope and promise and encouragement. It’s your gift Ashley. Bless you, for all your courage, for your commitment to write and speak your true heart. It feels like speaking your most private self into the “dark” doesn’t it sometimes – knowing that ears without faces are hearing? You already know that the One who loves isn’t going anywhere. Know too that there is a daisy chain of brightly marigolded women all holding hands in a ring around you…saying thank you, we love you, and me too!

What a precious picture, Mama. All you beauties with your marigold chains. And this chorus I love: “yes, I know, me too – if not today, then it was yesterday, or it will be tomorrow.” Ain’t that just the truth?

I just LOVE your use of the words grey porridge. I’ve read many descriptions of porridge but never ‘grey’. Please share your references to ‘magazine’, are congratulations in order? If so, you have mine!!!

I’ve been featured in a few magazines lately, Grams — mostly online. But I had a piece published in MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) magazine in May and another coming up in their November/December issue. On real paper. :-) Thank you for your congratulations. Much love to you.

Oh Ashley, you always bless with your words of transparency. Loved reading the truth about yourself and “help, thanks, wow” and in fact have quotes from it in my gratitude journal. Missed the one you quoted however. Always, thank you.

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